Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Thoughtful,” I scoff. “More like insane.”
“You were hurting,” Krista continues. “Believe me, the sedative was a kindness. I don’t know if you’ve ever been beaten black and blue before last night, but trying to sleep when your face is aching like that isn’t fun. He’s trying to take care of you in the best way he knows how.”
I scrunch my face and try to see where she’s coming from. I suppose she has a point. He could have completely knocked me out like he did on the drive here after the auction house, but he didn’t. He’s learning my boundaries, and if he’s able to put in that kind of effort, then I suppose I can put aside my hang-ups and be grateful for his kind gesture. After all, he could have left me to suffer through the pain. Hell, he could have left me bleeding on the bathroom floor, but he didn’t. He scooped me up as though I was the most important thing to him and raced me to get help, and honestly, I don’t think a man like that just comes around every day.
Shit. I’m getting way too deep here.
“Here,” Krista says, handing me some painkillers. “You’re going to need these.”
Grateful that she didn’t feel the need to linger on Killian being a respectable man with great intentions, I put the glass of water aside and replace it with the orange juice. “This is safe to drink, right?” I ask her in a teasing tone.
Krista rolls her eyes but can’t help the laugh that bubbles up her throat. “Yes, it’s fine,” she says. “Now hurry up and eat your breakfast before it gets cold. I bet you’re starving. Those galas wouldn’t know how to serve a decent-sized meal if it smacked them right in the face.”
I snort a laugh, recalling the tiny meal I was served last night, and honestly, it looked too fancy for me. I couldn’t even tell what it was.
As if on cue, my stomach growls, and I don’t hesitate to dig into my breakfast. My first bite is a learning curve, and my split lip screams with agony. After cursing myself for being too eager with my meal, I take smaller bites.
Krista hangs out as I eat, making her way around my room, opening my curtains, and making sure I’m actually eating. As she moves from one end of the room to the next, she tells me all about her life.
She helps me out of bed, and the movement reminds me just how brutal Monica’s kick to my ribs was. I’m grateful when Krista offers me her hand and leads me into the bathroom. She helps me pull my top over my head, and I do my best not to let the pain show. My ribs aren’t broken, but damn, they might as well be with how bad they hurt. The doctor said something about deep bruising last night, but to be completely honest, I was fading in and out. The words that were tumbling out of his mouth sure as hell weren’t registering in my head. Hell, I worked hard to zone out a lot of the shit that happened last night . . . until Sergiu decided my closed door was an open invitation for him.
What a fucking asshole.
I have no idea how I’m supposed to play that card, but what I do know is that I need to keep my eyes wide open. I might feel as though I have the upper hand here, but truth be told, I’m fighting a war I know nothing about, and right now, all I am to Sergiu is a barricade that stands directly in the path of what he wants.
Krista helps me into the shower, and after making sure I’m not about to slip and hurt myself further, she leaves me be, and I take my time to wash the dried blood out of my hair. Killian and Krista gave it a good try last night, but there’s nothing quite like a proper shower to make you feel clean.
I take my time to scrub the scum off my body, and then just because I spent a good portion of my night laying on the bathroom floor, I scrub myself again. When I finally feel clean and my body has relaxed under the warm water, I turn off the taps and reach for my towel before noticing the clean underwear and silk robe that’s been placed just inside the bathroom door.
A small smile stretches across my face. I barely know Krista, but she cares for me in a way I’ve never been cared for before, and while I know she’s just doing her job and following orders, she always goes the extra mile.
After getting myself dressed, I dry my hair and spend a few moments rubbing moisturizer into my sore skin while doing everything I can to avoid my reflection in the mirror. It’s not pretty. The bruises are dark and unforgiving, and the stitches just make everything look worse. The less I look at them, the more I’m able to pretend they don’t exist—until I yawn or move in the wrong way, then it all comes crashing back.